


Looking In

by Owlship



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Exhibitionism, F/M, Kinktober 2016, Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr, basically-a-nudist!furiosa, is it mutal masturbation if they're in separate apartments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14794928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlship/pseuds/Owlship
Summary: Out of deference to her new neighbor, Furiosa starts wearing a tanktop when she’s roaming around her apartment.





	Looking In

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, another Kinktober '16 piece, originally posted [on tumblr](http://v8roadworrier.tumblr.com/post/152279425156/my-friday-is-shitty-i-wish-i-never-got-out-of-the)!

Out of deference to her new neighbor, Furiosa starts wearing a tanktop when she’s roaming around her apartment. The previous tenant of the place across the street was an old woman who reminded her of her aunts and walked around completely nude from nearly the minute she was home for the day, which made it easy to go on wandering around wearing just underwear like she’s used to doing.

But the old woman had moved out last month- to a group home, she’d cheerfully told Furiosa, the one with the cutest residents and nurses she could find- and in her place now is a man about her own age, alone except for his dog as far as she can tell.

The apartments are so close to one another over the one-lane street below that their tiny balconies nearly touch, the building seeming to lean into one another. She and the previous tenant had sometimes stood out with cups of tea and talked shit about the other people in the neighborhood, or traded advice back and forth- the topic of which was usually a toss-up between gardening and sex. By contrast this new man had looked entirely scandalized when Furiosa tried getting him to talk when he happened to be out in the pre-dawn morning, a mug of coffee in his hand.

The fact that she wasn’t wearing anything but panties at the time probably had something to do with it.

She had shrugged to herself and after taking a good look at the man decided she wouldn’t mind being on his good side, which apparently meant putting on an extra scrap of fabric as if that suddenly makes things more decent than going bare entirely. It’s her apartment to do what she pleases in, but the windows are large and offer excellent views into the place across the street, and Furiosa doesn’t want to scare her new neighbor away.

Of course, despite her resolve to wear clothes it doesn’t always actually happen.

When Furiosa gets out of the shower after an especially long day all she wants to do is collapse onto her favorite chair with another mug of tea-with-a-splash-of-gin and feel the night air on her skin as she dries off. She does just that, remembering at the last moment that the neighbor is home and flicking the light-switch off so it’s not as easy to see into her place.

His lights are on though, and it’s such a warm night that his windows are open and she can see clearly that he’s not wearing _his_ shirt, which is exactly the sort of double standard that would irritate her further if it wasn’t granting her a wonderful view of his body as he plays with his dog. She can hear his voice drifting across the street easily, a low noise that doesn’t have any distinguishable words in it.

It’s domestic and charming and Furiosa shouldn’t be having anything but wholesome feelings about the scene. Except that her neighbor is extremely attractive, and her tea may or may not have been slightly more gin than tea.

She watches him from the safety of her darkened room- he might not know she’s there at all; she can’t remember if he’d been home when she started her shower- and when a peal of rough laughter drifts across the narrow street she takes another sip of her gin-with-a-splash-of-tea.

The dog’s a cute thing, whirling this way and that with something bright in its mouth and forcing the man to chase after it; when he finally catches the dog he lifts it up into the air, the muscles in his arms flexing, and she’s so rarely seen him smile that she feels almost bad about taking note of the way his lips open around a laugh, all soft and plump and red. His entire demeanor is so light that if she was close enough to see that kind of detail she wouldn’t be surprised to find his eyes sparkling.

The dog tires out before he does, slinking off to curl up probably in the middle of his bed. It must have been a particularly good day for her neighbor; he’s only wearing that fabric brace around his knee instead of the structured fiberglass one, and when the dog’s worn out he still goes ahead and starts his exercise regime.

Furiosa takes another drink of gin and leans forward a bit more. It’s very bad of her to watch him this intently, but he has curtains if he wants to use them. The mug is somehow empty when she goes for another sip and she sets it aside, and now that her hand is free it comes to a rest on her bare stomach, rubbing the skin there idly.

Her neighbor never seems to do vanity exercises; it’s more stretching with mild calisthenics than anything else, some moves that seem like pure physio for the leg. It’s enough to make him look appealingly muscular, thick-bodied like he actually uses his muscles instead of focusing on how he looks. She wonders what he does during the day, because the handful of exercises he does at home aren’t enough to really even maintain that level of strength.

He gets up from doing a set of push-ups and the night is warm enough that she’s sure he’s worked up just a bit of a sweat. He disappears from view, to the bathroom if his apartment is laid out the same as hers (it is; the old woman had invited her in a few times, but it feels less creepy to watch him if she pretends she doesn’t know for sure), and Furiosa finds that her hand has moved up her chest, fingers just wrapping around the curve of her breast.

She really shouldn’t. Even with her main light off the room has enough of a dim glow that someone (there’s only one neighbor with windows that can see into hers) might see her, and with the windows open if she makes any noise someone will undoubtedly pick up on _that_.

The idea’s a little thrilling, though. She likes being naked or nearly so at home because it’s comfortable, but she can’t deny that thinking about the man across the street looking in and seeing her, _reacting_ to her, has a certain appeal.

Furiosa plucks at her nipples until they’re pulled tight, the warmth in her stomach from the gin becoming overshadowed with warmth of growing arousal. Her neighbor isn’t even here to see; he’s in the bathroom, probably showering away the sweat he’s worked up… She slips her hand down her abdomen and pictures it, his skin glistening under the spray of water, his body stripped entirely bare. She’d be willing to bet that he has a big dick, something thick to match the rest of his body.

She’s already wet when her fingers reach her cunt, and she spreads that slickness up and around while letting one of her legs splay apart, hooking over the armrest of the chair so she can touch herself more easily. A shiver runs through her to think about what would happen if he came out and saw her now, all spread open. There really isn’t any way to make _this_ seem innocent.

She vaguely regrets that her favorite vibrator is over in her bedroom, but she wouldn’t want the noise of it anyway. Furiosa circles her clit, strokes up and down through her labia, and sighs. Besides, if she’s really going to do this- and she is, she’s committed now- she might as well do it right. Take her time.

She teases herself, thinks about the man next door in his shower and thinks about him in bed. He’s quiet, but their windows are practically touching. She’s heard him have nightmares, terrible things that make him thrash and cry out, but she isn’t thinking about that now- she’s thinking about the night she heard him let out a groan which could only be pleasure, one that she’s sure he didn’t mean to let out so loud, and how she’d laid in her own bed only a few meters away straining her ears to try and make out whether the quiet sounds drifting through her window were the wind or him trying to stifle his noises.

She licks her lips and rubs over her breasts with her left arm, lets the broad sweep of her stump flick against her hard nipples. She wonders if he’d want to use the strength in his arms to hold her down, to make her writhe and beg, or if he’d sit quivering in restraint and want her to take him apart piece by piece, or if it would be a constant surprise, rolling over and over until neither knows which way is up.

Furiosa waits until she can’t help but squeeze her muscles around absolutely nothing, cunt trying to get any bit of pleasure despite being empty, before she slips two fingers inside. When she presses hard over her clit next she makes a noise that’s a little louder than she means to and looks around to see if anyone has noticed. Everything is quiet and still, the street empty and the apartment across the way dark with its lights turned off.

She relaxes, then stiffens again when she realizes that the lights had been on the last she looked. Her neighbor had been through after all, and he might have looked through her open balcony door and seen her. Might have heard her just now without the noise of the shower to cover the sound.

It shouldn’t excite her more but it does. She wonders if he did look in, if the dim lighting was enough to make out anything of what she’s doing. If maybe he liked what he saw.

Furiosa doesn’t bother stifling her next noise when she crooks both of her fingers up, pressing her g-spot and making herself moan at the feeling. She rocks her hand back and forth, rubbing her clit with her thumb and pressing against her walls with two of her other fingers, letting the heat build until her hips are rolling up into it on their own accord, her skin flushed with sweat and breaths coming quick.

She hears something from the outside; maybe the creak of springs, or the drag of a chair’s foot against the floor, or maybe just someone walking down on the street below. It makes her look up and out through the open door, straight into the neighboring apartment. The main light is out but there’s just enough ambient light for her to see a human shape on the couch.

Her gaze catches on the gleam of two eyes in a shadowy face and she comes with a shocked gasp.

For a moment all Furiosa can do is breathe, stuck in place as she reconciles the fantasy of the man next door maybe seeing her with the reality of him _actually_ watching. Well, she thinks, at least this answers the question of whether he’s into women.

She looks back towards his apartment and he’s moved a bit, one of the dim slashes of light landing against his face, highlighting the structure of it. She can just about make out the outline of his body reclining on the cushions.

Furiosa keeps her hand where it is and wonders if she should close her legs, shuffle off awkwardly to her room and draw the curtains. Except it won’t change the fact that he’s seen this much of her already, and she’s never been a fan of even strategic retreats. And she’d started this by wanting him to look, inviting it.

So she instead shifts in place a little, rearranges herself just enough to show her body at a better advantage than her earlier unconscious sprawl. Arches her back just enough for her breasts to catch a glimmer of light, tilts her hips so she can draw her other leg further aside. Small changes that make this no longer her just masturbating but instead have her putting on a show.

She starts moving her hand again, cunt soaked and probably soaking into the fabric of the chair below her, every now and again drawing her fingers out and away entirely, teasing herself and hopefully teasing him, flashing him her cunt when it isn’t covered by her hand.

She can’t see across the distance well enough to know if she’s affecting him, especially not when she isn’t letting herself lean in as close as she can to get a better look. She hopes she is, though.

Furiosa doesn’t usually like thrusting her fingers when she touches herself but it looks better, appeals to men better, and so she adds in a bit of it as well, alternating with how she does prefer to move. She refuses to fake her reactions though, doesn’t squirm and whimper and flutter her eyelashes.

The heat builds back up quickly, all the more so because she can feel his eyes on her, can imagine him getting hard just watching her, and soon she’s rocking up into her hand again and forgetting all about caring what angles he can see her from. She rubs determinedly at her clit and brushes her left arm over her nipples and lets out a sharp noise as she comes, louder than she’d intended.

This time she works herself through the aftershocks, drawing out her climax and almost but not quite managing to get there a second time before she becomes too sensitive. She draws her hand away and rubs her slick fingers against the chair that’s definitely going to need to be cleaned at this point anyway.

When she looks back into the neighbor’s apartment she can see movement, a steady up-and-down rhythm of his arm that makes her smile in satisfaction. Not unaffected after all.

Before she can think better of it Furiosa gets up off the chair and walks out to her balcony, letting her hips swing with each step. There aren’t any streetlights on their tiny street, and a quick glance shows that the only lights on are several buildings away; not that she’s particularly worried about being seen, especially considering how well it had just gone.

She leans against the railing and looks into her neighbor’s apartment, able to make out more detail the longer she looks. His hand moving over his cock, his hooded eyes, the fact that he was smart enough to have a towel on the cushion under him, which makes her mouth quirk up into a smile.

She hears it when he comes, a low rough noise, and that makes her smile a little deeper.

Furiosa gives him a count of thirty to recover and then calls across, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced yet.”

There’s a beat of silence and then he makes an indistinct sort of noise. She watches him get up off the couch, how he wipes himself off with the towel and lets it fall carelessly back to the cushion. He gets as far as the balcony door and then stops, eyes suddenly nervous as he looks around their quiet little street as if there’s a news van shooting footage.

“I’m Furiosa,” she says, and extends her hand over the distance between their railings. When they toured the place Valkyrie had called them kissing balconies: close enough to get cozy, if you didn’t mind stretching a little. It was funny when it was her and the old woman as neighbors, but now she’s considering if there’s any real merit to the idea.

Her neighbor hesitates, but then steps out into the air. She can see him clearly now, the murky city moonlight washing over the planes of his body. Between his thighs his cock is soft, but she has hopes about its size based on what she sees of it currently.

“Max,” he says, taking her hand across the distance and giving it an awkward shake up-and-down.

His cheeks are flushed dark even in the dim lighting and she smiles, drags her eyes down his body pointedly. “I don’t think I ever gave you a housewarming present, neighbor.”


End file.
